Code: Numb3rs
by liron-aria
Summary: Don said Charlie was horrible at keeping secrets. Then again, Don wasn't part of Charlie's life for almost a decade. It's been years since Charlie settled into his role of a math professor, hoping to keep that part hidden, but secrets... they come out.
1. Chapter 1

The Eppes brothers were edgy.

Charlie was edgy because Amita, his thesis advisee and somewhat potential love interest, was leaving for an assistant professorship at Harvard University. It was a good, nay, a brilliant, opportunity, but the hint of what might have been between them nagged at his mind, and even more so the consequent thought that he would be so arrogant as to expect Amita to stay just for him. And, well, the numbers trying to short-circuit his brain weren't helping, but he'd been dealing with that since he was three years old.

Don was edgy because the crook they'd been chasing hadn't been caught yet and his brother was constantly distracted but people were going to die, so if he could please get his mind off his failing love life and focus on the case, that would be great, thanks. It wasn't as if he was the only one who'd ever lost a girl before the relationship even took off and with his social skills it was a miracle Amita even stayed this long.

David, Colby, and Megan watched the two brothers warily. Don was pacing, clenching and un-clenching his fists, and Charlie's eyes were darting back and forth across his laptop screen as his fingers flew over the keys. Every so often, Charlie's eyes would blank out, but he'd shake his head and start working again, just as Don threw him an aggravated look. A storm was brewing between the two of them, and none of the other three wanted to be caught in the crossfire.

"What have you got, Charlie?" Don asked eventually.

Charlie shook his head without pausing his work. "I need more time, Don. This algorithm will take at least four hours to finish."

"Four hours?!" Done exploded, "We don't have four hours, Charlie, we barely have two! Can't you go any faster?"

Charlie glanced up, tense, his eyes flashing angrily. "I'm doing the best I can, Don."

"Best isn't good enough! Charlie, innocent people are going to die! Do you understand that?!"

Megan, David, and Colby winced. Every agent under Don had been on the receiving end of the 'best isn't good enough' rant at least once in the middle of a tough case, but that was just how Don worked. He pushed his agents to their limits and beyond, but only if the situation called for it. He had to be tough to be an effective leader. The problem was, Charlie wasn't one of his agents.

Charlie's breath caught in his throat as he resisted the urge to snarl 'Innocent people die every day.' He knew his brother was only lashing out because the case frustrated him, because he'd taken this case to heart. No matter what he said to Charlie or his teammates, Don always took his cases to heart. That's what gave him his edge and drive to succeed.

Before Charlie could answer, however, his cell phone started vibrating. Receiving a frustrated nod from Don, Charlie flipped it open and answered.

"Eppes."

Charlie's face immediately closed off and he barked, "No," before closing his phone and tossing it back on the table. Ignoring the FBI agents' gazes, he resumed typing.

The phone started vibrating again. Charlie resolutely ignored it. He was not about sacrifice three months worth of sleep, not again.

"Charlie?" Colby ventured, "You going to get that?"

"If it's that important he'll call back," Charlie muttered tersely.

Ignoring the piercing gazes he knew were being directed his way, Charlie fished out a notebook and started scribbling out functions. The phone fell silent, before starting to vibrate again.

"Damn," Charlie cursed under his breath.

Jamming the phone between his shoulder and ear so that he could keep typing, Charlie said, "Eppes."

"If my answer hasn't changed in three years, what makes you think it's going to change in the thirty seconds since you last called?"

Charlie froze for a moment, pure, unadulterated rage masking his face. Clenching his jaw and forcing his emotions back, he growled, "Start talking."

A few minutes in, Charlie froze again, the oh-my-god-I'm-such-an-idiot kind of realization dawning across his features.

"Repeat that," he snapped, his fingers flying over the keys with renewed fervor.

Charlie pressed his lips together in a thin line, his breathing starting to sound forced. The rage was back in full force. He flipped to a new page in his notebook and started writing. A few minutes later, his pencil snapped in half.

"You know what? Fuck. You."

Charlie ended the call and ripped the page out of his notebook. Suddenly, it became all too clear that this man was indeed Don's brother. How many times had that same, tight expression adorned Don's face in the middle of a case.

"Here," Charlie said roughly as he pushed the paper towards Don, "Your perp, his address, the time of his next attack, his next victim, his next victim's address."

Don scanned the paper as David's eyebrows shot up. "You figured out all that with math? What happened to needing four hours?"

"I had an epiphany," Charlie replied testily.

"Yeah? Well, next time, could you get your epiphanies a little sooner?" Don muttered.

Charlie slammed his laptop shut and quickly packed away his things. Megan, who had stayed silent so far, asked quietly, "Charlie? Are you alright?"

Charlie shook his head. "Worry about your case, Megan."

Charlie had his hand around the doorknob when Don asked, "Whoa, whoa, wait, Charlie, where are you going?"

Charlie gripped the doorknob so tightly his knuckles turned white. Without looking back, he ground out, "Don, do me a favor. Don't come near me for the next three days."

And then he was gone.

There was a beat of silence as the four FBI agents wondered exactly what had happened with their mild-mannered mathematician before Don barked out his orders and they left to catch a criminal.

* * *

As usual, Charlie's information was solid. They caught the criminal, wrote up their reports and headed home for a well deserved crash. Well, Don, Megan, and David did. Colby decided to head over to a bar and relax with a few drinks.

The bar he frequented was a surprisingly respectable one, about a block away from his apartment. He sat down on a barstool and waved to the bartender, an elderly man with snow white hair and kind, dark eyes.

"The usual, Colby?"

"You got it, Mike," Colby replied with a tired grin. Mike was a rare sort; he listened to whatever problems his customers had and never said a word. He always seemed to know when someone just need to vent, when they needed advice, and what type of drink they needed for each occasion. In the year that Colby had been in LA, Mike had been one of his greatest supports.

Colby looked down at the drink Mike passed to him. "That's not my usual," he remarked.

"The lad down at the end got it for you," Mike replied, nodding to Colby's right.

Colby took a sip and looked over, promptly choking on his drink.

"Charlie?!"

Charlie raised his glass towards Colby with a small smile.

"Agent Granger," Charlie said mildly, "How lovely to see you here."

Colby raised an eyebrow. "Charlie, what are you doing here?"

Charlie looked at him as if he had asked what two added to two was. "Drinking, what did you expect? Oh, please... don't tell me you think I'm a monk like Don does."

Colby cleared his throat uncomfortably. In truth, he sort of did. Charlie was… well, a geek, to put it bluntly. The only things associated with him were chalk and numbers. The thought of him drinking or getting any action just seemed out of place.

Charlie burst out laughing. "You do, don't you?"

Colby shrugged and took another sip of his drink. It was pretty strong. Good, but strong.

"Never took you for the type."

Charlie smiled sadly and took a sip of his drink. "Makes the numbers go away, if only for a night."

Colby sat up, concerned. "What do you mean?"

Charlie waved his hand distractedly. "The numbers, formulas, equations all buzzing around in my head twenty-four-seven. There's only so much a person can take, y'know? Well, actually you don't, seeing as you're not the one who can't look at a glass of water without volume, density, rate formulas running through your head. That's why I'm always scribbling at a chalkboard, trying to get the numbers out of my head, in the hopes that maybe I'll get some peace, but for every formula I get out, another one takes its place in my mind. I come down here once a month to clear my head, recharge… Why am I telling you this, again?"

Colby's eyes widened as he listened to Charlie. He'd never really considered the cost of Charlie's genius. The math the other man worked on had always seemed like magic to him, but he'd never really thought about where the numbers came from.

"Does Don know?"

Charlie gulped down the rest of his drink, humming as it burned down his throat.

"Hmm… I think so. I remember running to him one night when I was little, begging him to make the numbers go away. I don't think he was too happy with being woken up at 2 in the morning. Hey, Mike! Can I get another one?"

Mike came over with a wary expression. "You sure, Charlie?"

Charlie scoffed, "I can still recite the Fibonacci sequence backwards from 96,151,855,463,018,422,468,774,568 and hold a coherent conversation. I'm not drunk _enough_."

Mike shook his head and left to make Charlie's drink. Colby raised an eyebrow and asked, "Charlie, how much have you had?"

"Not nearly enough."

"Charlie."

"What? You think I don't know what I'm doing? I've been doing this since I was 15 years old, and yes, I'm well aware what the legal drinking age in California is."

Colby's brow furrowed. "Didn't Don say that your mom went to Princeton with you? She let you go out drinking?"

Charlie laughed, the alcohol making it sound slightly hysterical. "I made Mom go home in the middle of my first semester. I wasn't fond of being made an escape for her marital problems."

"And here we all think you're emotionally inept."

Colby froze as soon as the words left his mouth. Damn, the alcohol was working on him faster than it was on Charlie and he'd only had one glass! Charlie just laughed again.

"I don't exactly have space in my head to deal with emotions, but even I could tell what my mother was doing was wrong. And college got easier when my mother wasn't picking me up from class."

Charlie started humming idly, a soft smile on his face. "You know, I can't listen to most music without trying to find patterns for the sound waves."

"Don't you listen to music while working?"

Charlie shook his head. "Nope. They're just sound-blocking… The numbers are starting to fade a little…"

Mike set down Charlie's drink, saying, "Here you go, Charlie. I called Derek. He should be here soon."

Charlie nodded and knocked back his drink. His eyes closed as liquid napalm burned down his esophagus. He almost missed Colby asking if he'd talked to anyone about his problem.

Charlie opened his eyes and turned back to his companion. "A psychiatrist, you mean? When I was younger, yes. All he did was prescribe some anti-anxiety pills… They tasted nasty and made me feel weird, so I stopped taking them after the first time. And now that I'm older, the country can't afford to dampen my mind with medications."

The last sentence was said with a surprising amount of bitterness, and Charlie's words were starting to slur ever so slightly.

"You never know how much of a patriot you really are until you choose your country over your sanity," Charlie murmured, his gaze averted.

A suspicion formed in Colby's mind. "Hey, Charlie, who was that who called earlier this afternoon?"

The same rage he'd witnessed in the office that afternoon returned. Charlie gripped the edge of the counter tightly.

"An old colleague," he growled, "Asking for something I couldn't give him."

"And what's that?"

Charlie looked back at Colby, his eyes now empty and broken. "My humanity."

"I'm glad you said no, then," Colby replied.

Charlie blinked, processing the unexpected reply. He smiled. "I like you, Agent Granger. You're a good man. Can you keep a secret?"

Colby had to smile at the irony of that question. "Yeah, Charlie, I can keep a secret."

Charlie nodded. "That's true, you can. Don't tell Don."

"Uh, sure," Colby replied, not entirely sure what he wasn't supposed to be telling Don. Before he could say anything, though, another voice interrupted them.

"What's 44 times 76, Charlie?"

Charlie turned to the newcomer and opened his mouth. He closed it again. Blinking a few times, he said in wonderment, "I don't know…"

Colby gave the man a quick once over. He was tall and well-built, with dark skin, a bald head, and odd grey eyes, dressed in army fatigues. The man chuckled and said, "So the numbers are gone, then?"

Charlie grinned. "All's quiet on the western front, Derek."

Derek nodded in amusement and noticed Colby watching them. "Introduce me to your companion, Charlie?"

Charlie nodded. "Oh, right! Colby, this is Derek Myers. Derek, this is my fr-"

Charlie broke of suddenly, a lost expression on his face.

"His friend, Colby Granger," Colby finished as he shook Derek's hand.

The elation that spread across Charlie's face was a little heartbreaking to watch. Again, Colby had never given much thought to who Charlie spent his time with apart from Larry and Amita, since he always seemed so engrossed in his math. He just hoped Charlie wasn't going to use him as a replacement for Amita. In his line of work, attachments like that could be dangerous.

Derek smiled. "That's great. Come on, Charlie. You can sit on my couch and watch Planet Earth on the Discovery Channel. Lots of pictures and no numbers."

Charlie nodded again and stumbled off his seat. Derek steadied him with practiced ease.

"Easy there, Charlie. You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, just a little tipsy," Charlie assured.

Seeing Colby's disbelieving expression, Derek called out, "Hey Mike! How much did Charlie drink?"

"He just finished his sixth," Mike shot back.

Colby and Derek sputtered.

"Sixth?"

"And he's still conscious?"

"High tolerance," Charlie replied.

"You good to walk back to my apartment?" Derek asked.

"Yes," Charlie insisted, "It's only a block away."

"Where do you live?" Charlie asked.

"Devon Apartments," Derek replied.

"Really? So do I! Which floor?"

"First, C-Wing. You?"

"Lucky. Fourth, A-Wing."

Colby set his glass down on the counter as asked Mike, "How much do I owe?"

"None, Colby. Charlie took care of it."

"Alright. You sure you can walk, Charlie?"

Charlie glared. "The next person to ask me that will get kneed in the groin."

Colby and Derek shared smirks over the smaller man's head. "Alright, big man, let's get you back."

* * *

With Charlie safely deposited on Derek's couch and watching television, Colby and Derek stood in Derek's kitchen with a can of beer in their hands.

"So how do you know Charlie?" Derek asked.

"He consults with my team at the FBI," Colby replied, "You?"

"Kid helped me out of a rough spot several years ago," Derek said, "The least I could do was let him crash on my couch once a month."

"Does he come here often? I've lived here for a year and never seen him."

"It's pretty random when he comes, but he does come once a month without fail. I'm an instructor at the Army base, so Charlie has a spare key to get in if I'm not around."

"He walks back on his own?"

Derek gave Colby an amused glance.

"He's a grown man who knows his limits. Tonight was a bad night for him. If I wasn't around, Mike would have walked him back, or, I suspect, you would have taken care of him."

Colby chuckled ruefully. "He's my boss' little brother. Don would have my head if anything happened to Charlie while I was around."

Derek chuckled, but there was a bitter note to it. "Ah, the wonders of overprotective older brothers."

"Speaking from experience?"

Derek shook his head and stared at his beer. "No, it's just… I'm probably way out of line here, but if Charlie's brother cares so much about him, why is Charlie here, and not with him?"

Colby looked away and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. He'd quickly learned that the relationship between Don and Charlie was a taboo subject in the office when Don was around, which was pretty much always. It was even more taboo for him, since he didn't always approve of the way Don treated Charlie.

"Ah, well, Don and Charlie have a… complicated relationship. But I promise you, Don loves his little brother more than anything."

"Love doesn't necessarily mean like," Derek returned, "But I suppose it's none of my business."

And that there was exactly why Megan and David never discussed Don and Charlie's relationship when Colby was around. Because Colby would quite adamantly say that if they cared about Charlie, it most certainly was their business.

"Are you Charlie's friend?" Colby asked abruptly. At Derek questioning look, he continued, "Because if you are, it most certainly is your business."

Derek grinned. "I like you, Granger. Good to know Charlie has others looking out for him."

Colby grinned back, but he couldn't help but feel a strange pang in his heart. Charlie did have others who looked out for him. His father, Larry, Amita… well, Amita was leaving for Harvard, but still. But, if that were true, why was Charlie drunk and watching television on a couch in a near-stranger's house?


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: It's... It's... It's an _update!_ Surely, the apocalypse is nigh!

To all those who reviewed to the last chapter, you have my heartfelt thanks for taking the time to drop me a line, and my apologies to all those whom I told that the next chapter would be arriving soon. Obviously, things did not go as planned.

To my anonymous reviewers:

Cherry: You're right, most of the characters do say Charlie is horrible at keeping secrets, and Charlie's actions after he proposed to Amita definitely supported that fact. However, the fact also remains that Charlie never did tell Don about his clearance until the case with the CDC, so I'd say he could keep a secret if it came down to it. It's also a matter of trust; with Charlie and Don's relationship as rocky as it was at the beginning, it would have been easy for Charlie not to share anything of his life with his brother. As for the rest, this _is_ fanfiction, after all, and it's a chance for readers and writers to stretch their minds a bit and look at characters through different lenses or explore what they wish would have happened. If you're still reading, I hope you give this fic a chance; if not, thanks for taking the time to leave a review!

Ellie: I'm sorry you feel that way, but from what I've seen of the show, this is how the characters appear to me, so this is how I write them. It's all a matter of perspective. If you're still reading, I hope you give the fic a chance; if not, thanks for leaving a review!

luvnumb3rs: Thanks! I'm glad you liked it, and hopefully you enjoy this next chapter just as much! Sorry for the delay!

Mark: Thanks! I'm really glad you liked the interaction between Colby and Charlie, I had a lot of fun writing it! As for the other thing, yes, definitely, but probably not for a while, sorry. Sorry for the delay, I hope you enjoy this next chapter!

Nikki Saunders: Thanks! I'm really glad you enjoyed those bits, I had so much fun writing them. Sorry for the delay, and I hope you enjoy this next chapter!

Sarah James: Thanks for reading! I'm glad you like my portrayals of Charlie and Colby in this! I hope you enjoy this next chapter!

livelovelaugh: Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoy this next chapter!

Warning: There will be a few phrases of French dialogue. Translations are at the end of the chapter.

Please, read and enjoy!

* * *

Don looked up automatically at the sound of the elevator bell announcing that someone had arrived on the floor. A man with dark, curly hair stumbled out, one hand holding an ice pack to his head and the other clutching the strap of his messenger bag.

"Charlie?"

"Hey, Don," the mathematician greeted cheerfully, if somewhat dazedly, "I have the numbers you wanted me to run."

Don rushed over to his brother, asking, "What happened? Are you alright? Do you have a concussion?"

Charlie waved his hand dismissively. "It's nothing. I wasn't paying attention to where I was going and slipped on a freshly waxed section of the hallway at CalSci – after I finished the math, of course, so you don't have to worry about that."

Don rolled his eyes. "Charlie, I'm not worried about your _math_, I'm worried about _you_. Did you drive here?"

Charlie shook his head, wincing when it made his headache worse. "No, I caught a cab."

"Did you get you head looked at?"

"I don't have a concussion, Don."

"That's not answering his question, Charlie," a female voice reprimanded.

Charlie looked over to see Megan watching the scene with interest.

"Megan, come on! No, I just grabbed an ice pack from the First Aid kit in the Department Lounge because I wanted to get these to you before the lunch rush hit."

Don rolled his eyes. "Charlie, you should have gone to the hospital before coming here."

"I don't have a concussion!" the mathematician huffed, pulling the ice pack away from his head, "See, the swelling's barely there, and I'm pretty sure my pupils are dilating normally. Come on, Don, I'm not like you, I _do_ go to the hospital when I'm supposed to instead of 'toughing it out.'"

"Except when it comes to your math," Colby put in unhelpfully.

Charlie shot him a dirty look, to which he smirked unrepentantly.

Don shook his head at their antics. "Granger, drive Charlie home. You can finish your reports after you get back."

"Sure, Don."

"What? No, don't be ridiculous," Charlie protested, "Finish your work. Don't worry about me, I can catch a cab back home."

"It's fine, Charlie," Colby said as he stood up and stretched, "I've been cooped up at this desk all day, I could use a break."

Charlie flashed him a quick, wry grin. "Right. Because sitting behind a desk and behind a steering wheel are so very different."

"I wouldn't keep arguing, Charlie," David said with a chuckle, finally joining the conversation, "It doesn't look like you're going to win."

"Fine, fine," Charlie said with an exaggerated grimace, "You win."

Don grinned. "Thanks for looking over the files, Charlie. I'll stop by this evening and check up on you, alright?"

Charlie waved him off, muttering under his breath about overprotective older brothers who were really just fussy mother hens.

"I heard that!" Don called to Charlie and Colby's retreating backs as Colby choked back a laugh.

"Do you have any older brothers?" Charlie asked Colby as they stepped back into the elevator.

Colby shook his head. "No, but I had an Army buddy who treated me like he was one. It could get a little annoying."

Charlie scoffed. "Now there's an understatement."

"You must be used to it, though."

Charlie shrugged evasively, stepping out as the elevator doors opened to the lobby to put some distance between himself and Colby.

"I guess it's kind of nice," the mathematician muttered, "Knowing he cares."

His tone gave Colby the suspicion that Charlie _hadn't_ always been privy to that fact.

"Do you need to grab anything from CalSci?" Colby asked as they got into his car.

"No, just head straight back to my house. Avoid 6th, though, I saw an accident on the way here."

"Good to know. We should be there in about half an hour."

"Mmm…" Charlie replied, nestling back into the seat and closing his eyes, "I'm going to take a nap, okay?"

Colby glanced sideways as he drove. "Sure. You holding up alright? With the numbers and all?"

Charlie cracked one open and shot Colby an irritated glance. "I didn't tell you that for your pity, Colby. Still not sure why I told you, actually."

"I wasn't giving you pity," Colby replied calmly, "Just a little friendly concern."

"I'm fine," Charlie huffed, "Stop worrying. I've had worse."

"That doesn't really make me feel better, you know. Don would have a field day if you told him that."

Charlie kept his eyes closed and smirked. Colby simply shook his head and kept driving. Sometimes, he had to wonder how much Charlie really needed Don's protection. From what he'd heard, Charlie's security clearance was higher than Don's, and that kind of clearance didn't come overnight, and not for someone who stood at a chalkboard all day.

Charlie, for his part, idly recited the digits of pi mentally, trying to lull his mind into a short nap. The ice pack pressed against his head had dulled the pain to a dull throb, but he was going to be pretty uncomfortable for several hours at least.

And it didn't help that his mind automatically started mapping out the route Colby was following to take him home.

* * *

Charlie's eyes snapped open as Colby turned onto his street and he shifted in his seat.

"Good timing," the FBI Agent commented, "We're almost at your house."

Charlie rolled his neck and replied idly, "I kept track of the turns. Thanks for the ride."

"Not a problem, Charlie," Colby returned, "You gonna be okay?"

"_Yes_. Stop worrying. I'm going to go home, eat lasagna, and grade papers. Nothing strenu – if you try to walk me to my door, I'll beat you with my satchel. It has multiple-thousand-page hardback textbooks in it."

Colby bit back the urge to laugh. Charlie threatening him with a mild concussion was as amusing as Charlie threatening him while drunk.

"Alright, alright. Take care of yourself, Charlie."

"Will do," Charlie replied, shutting the car door and walking to his front porch.

He paused briefly as he pushed the door open. His father was busy all day, so the door should have been locked and the alarm set to ready. The alarm should have started beeping the moment he turned the doorknob. He closed the door behind him, listening for the sound of Colby's car turning out of the driveway. He turned to the blonde woman sitting nonchalantly on his couch.

"_Bonjour_, Charlie."

The corners of Charlie's lips curled upward. "Hello, Lucille. It's been awhile."

The woman rose. She was dressed simply, a lavender shirt over blue jeans and beige sandals. Her pale golden hair fell in layers just past her shoulders, held out of her face with a dark headband.

"You got contacts," Charlie commented, setting down his bag.

Lucille laughed. "I break into your house after over three years, and the first thing you say to me is that I've gotten contacts."

Charlie swallowed and shrugged. "My alarm code is your birthday. No one in my life knows about you, and no one from _our_ life knows where I live now. Also, any government agency would either call me first, or wait outside in an ominous-looking car."

Lucille stepped forward and Charlie met her in a warm embrace, exchanging kisses on either cheek.

"How was France? And Switzerland?"

Lucille linked arms with Charlie and replied, "Très beau. Sunny, beautiful, and colder than it is here."

Charlie's lips quirked into a grin and he sat down beside her, asking, "And Interpol?"

Lucille grinned. "That's classified."

Charlie laughed. "Oh, I'm sure. It was your work in Madrid, wasn't it?"

Lucille hit Charlie's arm lightly. "You're not supposed to know about that, you jerk."

"And Belgrade, Prague, and-"

Lucille grabbed a pillow off the couch and smacked Charlie with it. Charlie laughed and stole the pillow back. A few moments later, his smile dimmed a little.

"So, what brings you to my humble abode?" Charlie asked.

Lucille swallowed and stared down at the carpet. "They want me back."

Charlie stilled. "Are you going?"

Lucille looked at Charlie sideways and covered his hands with hers. "Where you go, I go, remember?"

Charlie turned his wrists so that he ended up covering Lucille's hands. "I remember. They called me, too, a few days ago. I said no."

Lucille nodded and interlocked her fingers with Charlie's. "So. It's been three years. What have you been up to, all this time?"

"Same as usual. Teaching, consulting. Right now, it's mainly the FBI, but I've done some work for people like the CDC, INR, NCSD, and some private security firms as well."

Lucille leaned against Charlie's shoulder. "All our old friends, then. The FBI offered me a job, you know. They want me to be an analyst, but maybe I'll be a consultant like you. Or maybe I'll go find another PhD to work on… how many do you have, now?"

Charlie chuckled as he extricated himself for his friend's grasp. "Still just the three and my Biochem Masters, same as you. Is lasagna alright for lunch?"

Lucille nodded, following him into the kitchen. "It shouldn't be this easy, you know."

"What shouldn't?" Charlie asked blankly as he pulled food from the oven.

"_This_. We've been separated for over three years, and we barely saw each other for a year before that… How can it be as if we never left?"

Charlie set a plate down on the counter in front of Lucille and reached for her hands. "Think of it like a piecewise function, defined for some values of x, and undefined for others. For the last three years, we were undefined. Now, we're defined."

"Open circles at either ends?" Lucille returned amusedly.

Charlie grinned. "If you want. Come on, Luci, we went through Hell and back together. Let's… let's just have this for now."

"I can handle that. Oh! Does this have basil in it?"

Charlie stared at his food, replying blankly, "Maybe? Dad made it, not me."

Lucille clucked her tongue, taking a bite of the lasagna and savoring the taste. "Mmm… Basil, oregano, and… paprika? Who puts paprika in lasagna?"

Charlie shrugged digging into his own lunch. "Like I said, ask Dad. I don't think the Fire Department in Baltimore has forgiven me for trying to cook yet."

Lucille burst out laughing, her blue eyes twinkling in mirth. "Well, there is that. I dread to think what would happen should you try to cook in this building."

Charlie shook his head. "My parents banned me from cooking when I was twelve. I haven't really tried again since then."

"Until Baltimore," Lucille countered mischievously.

Charlie grimaced. "You and Jimmy are never going to let me forget, are you?"

"_Pas de chance, mon copain._ So is this house yours or your parents'?"

Charlie shot his companion a dry look. "I'm not even going to pretend to answer that, since I _know_ you've already hacked my financials."

Lucille flushed slightly and cleared her throat, managing an impish smirk. She continued unrepentantly, "I was surprised, though. You bought the house from your father."

Charlie shrugged, "I guess I just wasn't ready for change then. We both know how appallingly I deal with unexpected change… And it wouldn't be right for Dad to live somewhere in a condo when I was still in the city, would it?"

"Your brother's still in the city, too," Lucille pointed out.

"Don's been the good son all his life. It wouldn't be fair of me to ask him to take care of Dad all by himself, too."

Lucille rolled her eyes. "You know, Jimmy's got an older brother, too, and he has no issues letting him take care of his parents."

"Jimmy's also a CSS Agent," Charlie pointed out, "His priorities are a little different from mine."

"You still talk to him?"

"Of course! He's one of my best friends, why wouldn't I?"

Lucille stared at her friend pointedly. Charlie shrugged. "You still talk to him, don't you? He made his own choice, for his own reasons. Just because he stayed when we left doesn't mean I'd drop all contact with him. _He_ wasn't the one keeping me from my mother's bedside as she died."

Lucille shook her head. "Well, then, you're stronger than I am. Three weeks ago was the first time I talked to Jimmy since we parted ways."

Charlie stilled and looked the blonde, surprised. "Really? He made it seem like you two were still in contact all these years."

Lucille shrugged, resting her fork on the plate. "The man works for the NSA. You know the kind of resources he has."

It was Charlie's turn to roll his eyes. "No, Luci, I'm completely blind to the resources my former employer has."

Lucille reached over swatted Charlie's arm lightly. "Don't be facetious, Charlie, it doesn't suit you."

"Oh?" Charlie teased, "I thought that's why you loved working with me, my stellar wit and dashing good looks."

Lucille groaned and placed her and Charlie's plates in the sink. "Wasn't it Oscar Wilde who said, 'Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit'? Come on, you're taking me apartment-hunting."

Charlie sputtered. "Wh – I'm _what?_ Luci, you did see me walk in with an icepack to my head, right?"

Lucille waved off his concerns dismissively. "You came in alone, and a car left as soon as you closed the door. Whoever you came with obviously wasn't too worried about your condition. Besides, I'll be driving."

"There's no car in my driveway."

"Who said anything about a car?"

"Your Ducatti isn't in the driveway, either."

Lucille tossed her friend a fake scowl. "Stop being so observant! I've got a cab for the day. I sent him off to get lunch; he should be back soon, so get ready."

Charlie stared at Lucille's back as she sauntered out of the kitchen.

"You're serious?"

* * *

Colby was about to enter his apartment building when he spotted a blonde woman and a dark-haired man climbing out of a taxi. The man just so happened to be one who was supposed to be resting at the other end of the city.

"Charlie?"

Charlie looked back at the sound of his name. "Colby! Hi!"

The blonde simply looked at him consideringly, before turning to examine the building.

"Hey, Charlie. How's the head?"

Charlie quirked a smile. "As filled with math as ever. Ah, Colby, this is Lucille, an old friend of mine. She's apartment hunting."

"Colby Granger, nice to meet you," the FBI Agent replied cordially, shaking the woman's hand, "Well, after staying here for over a year, I can definitely say Devon's a great place to live. Safe, quiet, not too expensive."

"I'm liking the locale," Lucille agreed, "Grocery store, bar, bank, café, and bookstore all within walking distance."

"All the necessities of life," Charlie chuckled.

Lucille rolled her eyes. "Ignore him. How crowded does it get here?"

"Not very. Most of the residents are single, and either military or law enforcement. We've got a couple young families on the first floor, but on the whole people here are friendly, but mind their own business."

Lucille nodded, musing, "I could live with that. What do you think, Charlie?"

Charlie blinked, and Colby bit back a snicker at the exasperation creeping into his eyes. By the looks of it, the pair of them had looked at a lot of apartments recently.

"The building looks structurally sound, not likely to come down during an earthquake. Bus stop at the corner, subway's half a block away, so you'd be connected to anywhere in downtown LA that you wanted to get to. The only parameter unaccounted for is your job…"

Lucille shrugged. "I'm a consultant, I can be flexible."

"Consultant?" Colby asked before he could stop himself.

Lucille nodded. "I'm a mathematician by trade, specializing in computer forensics. Anyone needs their computers looked at, complex equations run, or just some numbers crunched, I'm their girl."

"So, kind of like what you do, Charlie," Colby surmised.

Charlie nodded. "Pretty much, but since teaching isn't her main source of income, Luci usually has multiple consults running at the same time. Your record's, what, seven different analyses at once?"

"_Oui_, I don't think I slept for those entire three weeks," Lucille affirmed cheerfully, "Not one of my brighter decisions, but there are some people you _don't_ say no to, and some puzzles that are just too tantalizing _not_ to solve…"

Colby smirked. "I can imagine. I've seen how Charlie gets when he sees a new math problem."

Colby chuckled as both mathematicians flushed.

"_Bien, viens_, Charlie, the apartment office closes in half an hour," Lucille declared, tugging on Charlie's arm.

"_Oui, oui, je viens_," Charlie replied good-naturedly, "I'll see you around, Colby."

"Have a good evening," Colby called out to the retreating couple, and turned to go home, his thoughts swirling.

So Charlie knew French? It wasn't something he'd have expected of the mathematician, given Don's joking tales of Charlie's gaffs in English. He wondered if Charlie picked up the language in high school or college, or if his friend had taught him.

Lucille.

There was something about Charlie's blond friend that set alarm bells ringing in Colby's mind. She looked innocuous enough, with her oval face, blue eyes, and blonde hair, but there was something _sharp_ about her, something that set him on edge. It was a feeling he hadn't come across in over year, not since he joined the FBI.

Colby shook his head and pushed open the door to his apartment, tossing his keys onto a side table. As he took off his badge and sidearm, his gaze swept over a picture of him with his Army unit – and his world sharply derailed.

Afghanistan.

Blue eyes so cold and dead they were practically grey.

Blonde hair so matted with dust and grime it was a dirty brown.

Dr. Lucille Mercier, NSA/CSS, a goddess ordering her troops out to battle. At least, that's what it had seemed like to Colby, back when he was green and had just met her, having only heard stories of now her math had saved the day time and time again from the soldiers she worked with.

He remembered now, two ragged and worn squads stumbling into their base in the mountains after being presumed dead for nearly two weeks. When asked how they survived and how they found their way to safety, the soldiers could only laugh near-hysterically and thank God fervently for their mathematician.

Lucille had stood amidst the chaos watching _her_ soldiers debrief and get treated, simply saying, "I told you we'd get back safely, didn't I?"

Colby crossed over to his window, looking out into the street to see the taxi Charlie and Lucille had arrived in waiting patiently by the curb. He swallowed.

Did Charlie have any idea who he was getting involved with?

* * *

A/N: Whew, there we go. Another chapter down. Here's to hoping it doesn't take another year before Chapter 3 comes out, yeah?

Translations:

_Bonjour_ - Hello, good day

_Très beau_ - Very beautiful

_Pas de chance, mon copain_ - Not a chance, my friend.

_Bien, viens_ - Alright, come

_Oui, oui, je viens_ - Yes, yes, I'm coming

CDC - Center for Disease Control

INR - Bureau of Intelligence and Research

NCSD - National Cyber Security Division

If you have any other questions or comments, let me know. Please, leave a review!


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